


Waking the Dead

by tirsynni



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2020-05-15 18:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19301329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tirsynni/pseuds/tirsynni
Summary: After meeting Thanos and losing, Loki steals Doctor Strange's Time Stone and returns to the past before Thor's coronation. If he changes the events around the coronation, he can stop the domino effect which led to Thanos's catching up to them in space. Easy enough.Unfortunately, like all of Loki's best plans, it seemed he forgot some things and underestimated others.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A commission fic inspired by [this prompt](https://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/post/173050980026/saltandlimes-infinity-war-au-i-really-want-to/amp) (which the prompter themselves started writing).
> 
> This fic was stalled following the angst and such of Endgame, so posting it here in the hopes that it'll wake up the bunnies again. A good chunk of it is already written, but it has a ways to go.

When Loki opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the sunlight shining through the leaves above him. He blinked and the world blurred, as if rain dripped into his eyes. Another blink. The leaves glowed a bright, brilliant green. A small black bird fluttered onto a branch and stared at him. Fixated, Loki could only stare back as the sunlight caught its feathers. His gaze traced the iridescent sheen before the bird pushed off again, leaving him alone.

No. Not quite alone. In the distance, Loki heard laughter. Faint but there. Happy and light. Loki shifted to find the source but only bumped into the tree at his back. Something thumped with the movement and as if tugged by a string, Loki turned to the noise.

A book laid on the ground, facing upward with its pages fluttering in the breeze. Captivated, Loki stared at it, even as his hand reached to his chest. Sitting and reading under a tree until he fell asleep. How innocent. How sweet.

Loki sat a little straighter and swayed, his brain feeling like it swished in his skull. The floral, earthy breeze dizzied him like it was mead and not air. He couldn’t stop blinking as he looked around. Tall trees brimming with life, leaves and flowers blooming brilliant around him. Flutters of movement: birds and squirrels, possibly other things his eyes refused to focus on. Luscious flowers with their scents strong in the air, almost overwhelmingly so. Still, Loki had to inhale, trap their scents deep in his chest.

Frigga’s garden. Of course Valhalla looked like Frigga’s garden. Where else would anyone wish to spend eternity?

Loki swallowed something rough and jagged in his throat. He pushed himself into a full sitting position, his back straight against the tree behind him. Was it possible then? Were his struggles enough to permit even someone like him, a monster and a coward, into Valhalla? 

His eyes burned. When Loki looked down, he saw he even wore the clothes from his youth, the simple garb he liked to wear when he read in his mother’s garden. Thor always wore the same clothes, neither dirt nor blood bothering him no matter how rich his garment. 

Thor… The thought scratched at him. Even in the perfection of Frigga’s garden, in Valhalla itself, Thor always managed to distract him. The realization didn’t anger him like it used to. Whether that was due to growth or death, Loki didn’t give a damn.

Thor. What was he forgetting?

It didn’t matter. For once, Thor could wait. Loki inhaled and expected a burn in his throat, an ache in his chest. There was nothing but the sweet perfume of his mother’s flowers. Nothing but  _ peace _ .

The garden was just as Loki remembered it. There was the rosebush he liked to hide under when he was small. He read there in privacy, tiny enough to slip under the thorns and hide. Sentiment rose in him, thick and choking, but it was all right. Sentiment couldn’t hurt him here. There, lilies Frigga scolded him and Thor both for picking. Something to do with Fandral, if Loki recalled correctly. Loki looked up at the tree he leaned against: an alder, one of the youngest trees in the garden, and his favorite for resting and reading. He watched, dazed and fascinated, as a spider weaved a web several feet above his head. Its web glittered in the sunlight.

Valhalla. Valhalla at last.

Finally, he was done.

The whispers which forever haunted him quieted. No more running, no more fighting, no more fear. Not in Frigga’s garden, not in Valhalla. Loki exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, bringing his hands up to his face. At last he could --

Something hard hit his cheek. He blinked and looked down at the glowing green stone in his hand. Even as he stared, horror rising slow and dreadful within him like a dragon’s head, the Time Stone twinkled and faded away like so much dust.

Not Valhalla then. The past.

Loki stared past his hands at the garden, Frigga’s garden, and in his mind’s eye saw fire sweep through it. The flowers and leaves blackened and burned. The animals screeched and fled but there was nowhere to escape from Surtur’s flames, flames  _ he _ caused, destroying the last of Frigga and destroying the last of Frigga’s peace. The flames roared and devoured and Loki blinked and there was only a garden again, serene. A scream swelled in his throat, battered against his teeth. Loki inhaled and tasted blood and ash.

No fire. No Surtur. No Ragnarok. 

No Thanos.

_ “You really are the worst brother.” _

No Thanos. Loki rubbed his face with shaking hands. Thor. He had forgotten ( _ how had he forgotten _ ) but it was all right. Twas but a moment’s forgetfulness. What mattered was that he was in the past.  Thor was alive. It worked. He was back in the past and  _ Thor was alive _ .

He wanted to laugh but if he did, Loki knew he would never stop. He would laugh and scream and scream until Ragnarok came again and everything  _ burned _ \--

Loki stopped that thought. He reached down and grabbed his book, the pages smooth against his skin. His fingers trembled until Loki stared at them, willing them to stop. He smelled the faded vanilla scent of old pages and centuries of comfort and pretended it didn’t burn his nose.

He was back. It worked. He could fix things. Everything would be all right. He could fix this. Everything would be all right everything would be all right everything would be all right…

Now  _ when _ was he?

Carefully, Loki placed the book back onto the grass and then pushed himself to his feet. His legs shook like a fawn’s. Loki ignored them.

He had successfully used the Time Stone. He was back in the past. Thor was alive. 

...it was possible that he hadn’t planned beyond that.

It didn’t matter. The most important parts were in place. Loki could improvise the rest. Thor was alive. Loki only needed to keep the idiot that way.

Loki took a stumbling step forward and had to lock his knees to keep from falling. He sucked in a breath and shook with it, his lungs aching. He reached up to touch his throat, but it was no longer sore. Clothes covered most of him, but he seemed unmarred. Untouched. There was only a hint of dirt beneath his nails. A lie of false purity in his scholarly smoothness and Aesir flesh.

Just weak then. Always too weak.

Loki shook it off -- shook it all off -- and raised his head. He was fine. He was being foolish. He needed to focus.

Thor. He needed to find Thor. He needed to see --

Back straight, chin high, Loki strode forward. First, find Thor and discover when he was. After that, there was much planning to do. He passed the rosebush and forced himself not to inhale deeply, even as its scent teased him. 

Another scent caught in the air. Loki’s feet faltered. His heart stuttered.

“Loki, darling? Are you well?”

It felt like the shattered remains of Mjolnir lodged in Loki’s throat as he made himself turn. He forgot. How had he forgotten? Of all the things to not consider…

All thoughts centered around Thor, on Thor’s final words and final touch, the emptiness of space and the pulse of the Time Stone in his hand. How could he have possibly forgotten this?

Loki turned and forced a smile on his mouth, feeling his lips strain as if sewn together. Frigga stood by the lilies, one clasped in her hands. She smiled back, eyes dark with worry and so beautiful Loki felt like he couldn’t breathe from it.

If Loki was back, if Thor was alive and Loki was in Frigga’s garden, then it made sense that everyone else would be alive, too.

“Hello, Mother,” Loki heard himself say.


	2. Chapter 2

Without effort, in life or death, Thor always succeeded in devouring all of Loki’s attention. For years, Loki hated it and some part of him couldn’t help but hate Thor, too. Thor the Thunderer, sweeping past effortlessly to trap Loki in his shadow while Loki could only watch helplessly, longingly on. He hated him and loved him and even when he  _ knew _ he should be focusing on other things, he found himself circling Thor once again. 

Like how, when he realized Thor must be dead, all he thought about was going back far enough to save his brother. That thought -- and all its implications -- tangled in Loki, sharp thorns and dripping poison, wrapping around his heart and lungs.

Frigga walked forward and she seemed to shine and oh, yes, Thor was truly her child. Even frowning, worry darkening her brow, she seemed to glow like Loki never could. How did Loki ever imagine he was hers?

“Darling, are you well?” She walked up and pressed her hands against his cheeks. So warm and alive and it took everything within Loki not to shake. “You seem pale. Are you ill?”

Loki made himself smile. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek (leaned down when in all his memories she seemed so tall) and drank in the scent of her perfume. Her skin felt soft against his lips. “Just a bad dream,” he said. “Nothing to worry about.”

She smiled back, gaze doubtful but not pushing. Loki’s smile felt strained around his mouth, his jaw and cheeks aching with it. She dropped her hands and Loki instantly felt the colder for it, only for her to tuck one small hand into his elbow. “If you have time to sleep, you have time to walk with your mother. It seems like an age since I have been able to visit with either you or your brother.”

Loki’s hand clasped automatically over hers, his smile frozen. The garden seemed to blur around him as he walked with Frigga, only her warmth against him grounding him. Voices in the distance, birds singing, the garden untouched by the horrors waiting for Asgard. When was this? How far back had he gone?

The time  _ before _ was a blur. The horror of realization, the mortal Strange shouting, the Time Stone pulsing in his hands.  _ Before _ , he thought and what else? What else beyond that single point when he looked around and realized Thor wasn’t there?

He couldn’t remember. 

Frigga leaned against him, and her weight and the scent of her perfume dizzied him. “Your dream seems to weigh heavily on your mind. Perhaps speaking of it would lighten its weight. As always, my counsel is yours.”

She spoke lightly, teasingly, like no great secrets burdened them. It was what she always did, something Loki only reflected on lightly before her death and naught at all after. Odin, all or nothing in his language, while Frigga came at it from the side, soothing the edges. It pressed against Loki’s throat like a jagged blade now. Loki pushed it aside. 

“Twas just a dream, Mother,” he said, the words familiar on his tongue. Right then, everything felt like a dream. “No need to worry yourself on such a lovely day.”

Frigga’s laughter shivered through Loki. “My boys are growing up, but it is a mother’s duty to always worry. So much is changing, and I would worry more if you and Thor did not fret a little.”

Thor fretting? Loki licked his lips. What would cause Thor to fret? The garden and Frigga provided no clues, the unchanging nature of Asgard working against Loki once again. At the same time…

Loki went back. Loki always went back. Even now Loki only wanted to walk arm in arm with Frigga forever, let the universe burn. Except Thor would burn with it.

Frigga squeezed his arm and leaned more of her weight against him. “Truly a terrible dream,” she said, a hint of scolding in her voice. The tone which always prompted guilt in Loki’s heart.

Not this time. No guilt this time.

Loki shook it off. No time to examine such random things. “I dreamed of Thor becoming king,” he said drolly. No more than a shot in the dark.

Laughing, Frigga gently slapped his arm. “Don’t you dare joke like that around him. He’s nervous enough as is. He’s going to need your support, especially at first.”

Loki’s own laugh came automatically. The mimicry for real humor flowed as easily as his smile, as the way he leaned into Frigga as if this was a joke they shared. The affectations came easily, familiar as donning his clothes. Years, centuries of such pretense outweighed the mess of the last several years.

Walk and smile no matter how desperately he wished to sink to his knees.

“Of course he will have my support,” he said. In a spark of morbid, brutal humor, added, “He would bring Ragnarok without me.”

They laughed, and dizzily, Loki realized their laughter sounded the same.

Escaping came as easy as laughter -- “ _ One _ of us should be prepared for his coronation, and we both know it won’t be Thor” -- and Loki forced himself to walk to his room. Walk, not run or use a shadowpath. Walk and study the important details, clues to how far away the coronation was.

There were plenty of clues. Of this, Loki had no doubt. Near changeless, the Realm Eternal, but the change of its monarch was significant enough to change the air itself, even if Loki had managed to interfere. Clues enough for his clever eyes, yet Loki struggled to take note of the Thor’s brash colors and symbols and banners dominating the halls. 

For a thousand years, these halls had remained the same, only changing in the last few years of Asgard’s life. So why did it jar Loki so deeply now? Besides the gathering of Thor’s colors (like a storm), the halls were identical to Loki’s mocking memories. It took Loki several minutes to realize he was avoiding touching both stone and people, another several minutes to realize it was due to fear of walking through them. Every figure who delayed in noticing and greeting him seemed like a ghost, repeating the last good moments of their lives, hapless and ignorant. No marks from Malekith’s or Hela’s battles scarred the walls.

Everything was so horrifically  _ normal _ that Loki wondered again if he was dead. That there was no Valhalla but just this: life on repeat, the cyclical nature of Ragnarok misunderstood.

Loki caught himself rubbing his hands together and forced them to his sides. Calm. Relaxed. Lest someone take notice.

His mind jerked away from that last thought, the vicious snake always coiled in his soul baring its fangs in indignant rage. Loki forced it all away.

To his rooms. He had to see…

The walls should be scarred. Blood should stain the floor. 

Except that was what he was trying to avoid, Loki reminded himself. No more bloodshed. No more death. Surely it couldn’t be  _ that _ hard. The first step was done: no falling into the Void for him. No claws sinking into his soul. No leading an army to Midgard and lighting the way for Thanos.

He surrendered and wrapped himself in shadow, hurrying the rest of the way. Loki ignored all those who looked through him. 

Walking into his rooms was like being hit by Mjolnir. Loki swallowed, feeling like he choked on one of his own knives, and closed the door behind him. Let no one else see. For good measure, he closed himself off from Heimdall’s sight. 

In the waiting area, one of his mother’s blankets covered his favorite chair. There was an empty glass on the table, moisture still shining on its rim. Incense from his workroom hung in the air: sweet, with a slight kick like cinnamon. Dizzy, Loki tangled a strand of his hair in his fingers and brought it to his nose. The hair was so much shorter than he expected. What an odd thing. There, in his hair, probably in his clothes, the same scent of that incense. Thor would tease him terribly about it, how it would attract bees and bugs, no matter how many times he explained no, that was what magic was for, you oaf.

After Jotunheim, there had been no such incense, no such scents.

Further in, papers on his desk, still shining with ink. A dagger slammed into the wood. Link tried but couldn’t remember that incident. His books, everywhere, once his pride. Another thing lost when he fell into the Void, then forsaken to Surtur’s flames. He tried, once, as Odin, to enter these rooms. It took a mere breath to decide to seal these rooms away.

Loki ran shaking hands through his (too short) hair. It felt too much like entering the rooms of a dead man.

None of this was helpful.  _ Sentiment _ , he thought, the word as always double-edged, and rubbed his face. To his desk then.

His journal, so heavy spelled it could be mistaken for one of Odin’s treasures. One learned quickly when they had a brother like Thor.

Loki shoved that thought away -- shoved all thoughts away -- and focused on his journal. Not only bespelled but heavily coded, hidden away in a secret compartment of his desk. The movements to recall it came with an ease he found disturbing, remnants of another life caught in bone and muscle just like walking with Frigga, and even sitting at his desk to read it came in a practiced motion. All fragments of another life which were only parts of a nightmarish picture.

Hidden in secrecy, once cleared, the words themselves were plain. This journal, Loki recalled with a jagged laugh trapped in his throat, was supposed to be not just lamentations which not even Loki truly understood but a map of victory. So confident that the Allfather would never find these words, and if he did, by some gift of the Norns, he would understand that  _ Loki was right _ .

Loki wiped at his mouth and read the last entry. Victorious. Bragging. Trying to talk with Odin had failed, so he went another route. To the Frost Giants. Let those filthy monsters be his tools, his weapons. 

So that was done then. He arrived before the coronation but after he had already made his deal with the Jotunn. Before the failed trip to Jotunheim.

With practiced motions, Loki hid his journal away. All right then. He could use this. He --

Something slammed on the door. Loki’s knives flashed in his hands. “Loki? Brother? Are you in there?”

Loki froze.

Thor.


	3. Chapter 3

Thor.

Loki whisked his knives away, staring at the wall. Thor. Head caught in Thanos’s grip, Thor  _ screaming _ as Thanos squeezed, Power Stone shining…

Thor weeping over him before the ship shattered around them, so much space dust…

Thor.

Loki wiped at his face and stumbled to his feet as Thor slammed on the door again. “Brother? Loki?”

God of Lies. Loki rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. “I heard you the first time, Brother.” He hesitated, end of his fingers numb, before he waved at the door. The  _ click _ of it unlocking seemed incongruously loud. He rubbed his hands together and walked forward. “Well, come in before you make a scene in the hall!”

Thor’s presence flooded the room before he even stepped into it, like the change in air pressure before a storm. Loki swallowed and forced himself still, forced his expression to nonchalance. God of Lies and Mischief, now playing the greatest game of all.

Thor frowned at him as soon as he walked into the room, and Loki’s heart stuttered in his chest. Hair longer than when Loki had last seen him but still shorter than it had been before Sakaar. And both eyes. Both dark and displeased as they looked at him but both eyes, handsome face unmarred.

_ “If you were here, I might even hug you.” _

_ I’m here _ , Loki thought. He kept that thought trapped in his heart.

Thor tracked mud into Loki’s waiting room, all over Loki’s fine carpet. Loki wanted to laugh.

“I thought you would be busy with your coronation preparations, Brother,” Loki said as Thor stood (breathing and alive) before him, Mjolnir heavy on his hip. “You have, what? How many days left to go?”

“Three,” Thor said automatically. “As you well know, Brother.” Actually, he didn’t, so thanks for that. Thor shook his head, his too long/too short hair whipping about his face. “Mother sent me to check on you. She feared you were distressed.”

Poison laced Loki’s tongue, of an origin he dared not investigate. Not now, not when he felt so close to crumbling. His scoff echoed in his mind as he turned from Thor, only to have to immediately turn back, unready for Thor to leave his sight. He kept moving, pretending like he planned on walking to the goblet on the table. With a whisper and gesture, water filled it to its brim.

It tasted like nothing in his mouth. 

“Poor reading choices before I fell asleep,” Loki dismissed. He eyed Thor’s frown and added, “I thought, if anything, Mother would worry about you.”

Had she? Had she seen her blood son and feared the days to come under his reign? Had she looked at him and thought the weight of rulership would steady him? It hadn’t steadied  _ Loki _ .

Thor scowled but walked beside Loki. Another casting had a goblet in his hand. The trusting fool didn’t even check before drinking it. “There is no need to worry about me,” Thor said, wiping the water from his beard. “The people love me. I was raised to be their king.”

Loki expected the words to sting, but all he could do was compare  _ this _ Thor to  _ his _ Thor, the one who whispered his fears to Loki as they traveled through space to their new home. Would he be enough?  _ Could _ he be enough, to not just settle into a new home and care for their reduced people but raise them above their bloodied past?

They never found out. 

“You  _ do _ seem pale, Brother.” Thor clapped his shoulder, and Loki focused his balance on the balls of his feet so he would do nothing more than sway. “You need more sunshine! More adventure! Too often do you lock yourself in shadows with your pens and books!”

Soon, they would have more adventure than anyone knew what to do with. Loki swallowed.

“Shouldn’t you be less worried about adventures and more focused on your upcoming rule?” Loki asked, the words falling effortlessly from his lips as his mind focused on the other problem.  _ This _ Thor as opposed to  _ his _ Thor. Did he think he would come back in time and just stumble upon his brother as he last knew him? Scarred and wizened and still foolish but  _ grown _ ?

Thor slid his hand from Loki’s shoulder to the back of his neck and squeezed once, gently. His Thor or no, Loki wanted nothing more than to lean into that grip and close his eyes. “I am ready, Brother.” In another life, Loki missed it, but this Loki caught the slight tremble at the corner of Thor’s mouth, the darkening of his eyes. He remembered their meeting prior to the coronation, Thor’s quiet fear before he strode out to meet his people like a proud lion. Ah. Not so confident then. “And soon I will be bound to the throne, trapped and bored! All the more reason to have fun now!”

A mere handful of days until the coronation. Until the Jotnar. To begin the first major change of the timeline.

Yet Loki found himself trapped by that smile, saying, “It  _ has _ been a while since I’ve been horseback riding.”

Was that what he said in the last timeline? Did they have a conversation similar to this? Loki couldn’t remember. He wished they did, that they had gone riding together in the sun. Or had he already been too deep, drowning and lost?

Thor beamed. How was it possible for every expression to hurt? Would all of his mission be thus? 

“Excellent! I will find the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, and we will go!”

“ _ No. _ ”

Both Thor and Loki stopped and blinked, and it took Loki a moment to realize that vehement objection had come from  _ him _ . He blinked and shook his head. “I just… It has been so long, Brother, since it was just the two of us, and with you to be King soon…” He tilted his head and offered a cajoling smile. “Just us?”

Thor hesitated, hand still on the back of Loki’s neck. Warm and broad, it covered his entire nape down to the top of his spine. So different from Thanos’s cold, implacable grip.

“You are right,” Thor said at last. After a heartbeat, his smile grew into a sunny grin, and he shook Loki once before letting go. “Just us.”

_ Just us _ , Loki thought, remembering the two of them staring into space before Thanos’s shadows fell over them.  _ Until the end. _

xoxoxox

It wasn’t like Loki  _ hated _ the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. He was actually quite fond of them, especially Fandral, and had whispered silent prayers to nothing when he realized that the Three had fallen to Hela. Of course they had. It would never occur to that stubborn group to run. Fandral who laughed at Loki’s jokes and was quick to respond with his own. Hogun, a soothing quiet in the middle of storm and battle. Volstagg, quick to battle and quick to comfort and quick to drink and be merry. All slain by Hela. Loki thought Lady Sif might have survived, sent years ago on a quest to find more information on the Infinity Stones. They weren’t  _ terrible _ people, truly.

Just terrible for Thor. As they galloped through the fields, Thor bright and golden in Loki’s peripheral vision, Loki wondered if Thor ever realized that. That for all their loyalty, they were more followers than friends. They were subjects to a much beloved prince.

And what would have happened if they had survived? If there was a gap between them when Thor was a prince, what about as a King? Had Thor thought about any of that?

Loki would never know.

“We are in the sunshine to take you from your dark thoughts, Brother!” Thor shouted. Beneath him, Tanngrisnir almost charged through a bush before Thor directed him around him. A shaggy, red, monstrous beast, he had won Thor’s heart when he first bit him, then tried to kick his head off. All as a tiny pony. Odin hated him and it was only by Frigga’s intercession and Loki’s tricks that Thor kept the stubborn beast.

Jörmungandr, just as big but of a much sweeter disposition and far more clever, leaped the bush without hesitation. Jörmungandr, whom Loki snuck treats and visited until, well. Hela. And Ragnarok. This time, he would save him, too.

Perhaps now could be the start of that. “Do I not always carry my dark thoughts, be it in shadow or sun?” Loki returned. “One of us should ponder on things grim and foul.”

Thor slowed Tanngrisnir to a trot. Jörmungandr followed suit without prompting. Sol shone down upon him like she had forgotten he was a child of storms, of lightning and clouds. Sol shone down all around them, the field brilliant and flush with life around them, lush grass and flowers Thor and Loki would often pick for Frigga in days past. Something Loki could do again, if he so desired. A wondrous thought.

Thor’s smile at Loki could pass for one of Sol’s rays if not for the shadows in his eyes. “No dark thoughts now. Truly, our future stretches before us, and we shall carve out our places, so great and proud that Bor will be jealous in Valhalla.”

_ Loki, I thought the world of you. I thought we were going to fight side-by-side forever. _

Another conversation Loki wished he asked about. 

One hand tight on the reins, Loki stroked Jörmungandr’s thick black mane. His hands twitched, fingers restless. “I fear there are dark times before us, and well… Father has taught us much, but there is still so much we do not know, so much we are not prepared for. No one doubts the mighty Thor’s strength or valor, but what for things which strength and valor alone are not enough?”

There. The door was open. Let Thor talk about the shadows darkening his eyes, the fear he admitted before the coronation. 

There was a pause. Birds sang in the distance, so cheerily and sweetly as to fool one that nothing could be amiss. Nothing could be wrong when surrounded by such serene beauty.

Then Thor boomed a laugh, and Loki’s heart sank. “Brother, free yourself from such dark thoughts! Whatever you fear, I promise I will protect you.” He sidled his horse closer to Loki, close enough that their legs brushed on every other step. Tanngrisnir grunted but graciously didn’t bite anyone. “Your mind has always been a treacherous place, quick to yield to shadows. My  _ strength _ and  _ valor _ will be enough to guide us both through whatever the future holds.”

He beamed at Loki, with the expectant gleam in his eyes that  _ of course _ Loki would smile back. Keeping to their damned script, Loki did, even as his heart grew more troubled.

All right, perhaps his memories hadn’t lied about what a stubborn twit his brother was.

“Brother,” he said sincerely, “I fear the day you are proven wrong.”

Thor laughed again but looked away, to the beautiful Asgard horizon. Loki studied his silhouette, the strength of Thor and the lie he himself bought into. Thor, thinking he was so worldly when instead he was nothing but a naive child. 

Yet a part of Loki wished for that naivete to continue.  Truly, if Loki desired, he  _ could _ . He spoke truthfully to Thor before that he had no desire for the throne, but he knew how easily it would be to take or, if he so chose, to let Thor be nothing but a mouthpiece while Loki ruled behind him. He was wiser and cleverer now. His madness was not quite yet behind him, always shrieking in the darkness of his mind, but it was contained. He could rule, one way or another, and protect Thor and prepare Asgard from Thanos.

A possible path open before him, but as Thor turned back to Loki, still grinning, Loki dismissed it.

Or, at least, he tried.

Loki’s hands tangled in the reins, fingers twitching. His mind juxtaposed  _ his _ Thor’s face over  _ this _ Thor’s, twisted in pain and screaming. Biting the inside of his cheek, he turned toward the horizon. 

“Let’s ride, Brother,” Loki said, and tapped his horse with his heels. With a snort,  Jörmungandr leaped forward. Thor shouted and charged after him.

No, Loki decided, leaning over Jörmungandr’s mane. Thor needed to be a king, a  _ true _ king, better than Odin. One who could prevent Ragnarok and survive Thanos. 

First step: stopping his coronation and stopping him from becoming King. How ironic.

“There!” Thor cheered. “A real smile! I was beginning to think them beyond you!”

Loki laughed and urged Jörmungandr to go faster. 

When darkness teased the sky, they turned their horses back to Asgard, Thor chattering about a maiden he had met at last night’s tavern and it was truly a shame, Brother, that he wasn’t there. Loki laughed along with him and had no idea what  _ this _ Loki had been doing the previous night. Reading? Plotting? Stabbing random things?

Raging that Thor didn’t notice his growing upset? Loki laughed again and Thor grinned at him, so pleased his face glowed with it. Thor hadn’t even noticed that Loki had changed literally overnight. For some reason, that made Loki feel better. It wasn’t Thor being uncaring; it was his brother being an oblivious idiot. Something which improved in time. At least, to a degree.

That shadow crept over Loki’s heart again. No time for that. The coronation was coming, the Jotnar were coming. Loki needed to  _ plot _ .

Instead, that damned sentiment rose in him, and he called, “There’s a stream up ahead. It’s been an age since I have seen you embarrass yourself fishing, Brother!”

“ _ One time _ , one time, Brother! And how was I supposed to know that would happen?”

Loki’s grin even felt real as they steered toward the water. It faded when it should have grown as he watched his brother splash in the water, his cloak on the ground next to Loki and their horses, clothes soaked as he tried again and again to grasp the slippery fish. Thor’s curses undoubtedly didn’t help, something Loki considered pointing out. Yet he couldn’t keep his mouth curved right as the setting sun bathed Thor in red.

The growing shadows cast what looked like bruises on Thor’s golden skin, and Loki thought of bruises painting Thor’s strong neck -- But that wasn’t what happened. That wasn’t how Thor died. That was how  _ Loki _ almost died. Loki frowned and rubbed his face. It didn’t matter, anyway. Thor was alive and well in front of him, and Loki would guarantee he would stay that way.

“Are you sure you are well, Brother?” Loki looked up to see Thor frowning at him. Thigh deep in water, somehow drenched all the way to his beard, he should have looked ridiculous but this was Thor. Annoyingly, he managed to look proud and strong, even with his hands still empty of fish. “Are you falling ill?”

Some part of Loki missed  _ his _ Thor’s perceptiveness, but even  _ he _ wasn’t perceptive  _ enough  _ \-- “Just wondering how long this will take,” Loki said. “The great Thor, the Thunderer, defeated by  _ fish _ .”

Even as he said it, Loki wished...but no. Already, Thor’s attention turned back to the water, a scowl darkening his face.  _ Thor, wait _ , weighed on his tongue, but he quieted himself, leaning forward instead. 

“Nothing,” Thor declared, pulling out Mjolnir, “can defeat  _ Thor. _ ”

And thus Thor used the might of Mjolnir, the power of lightning, to go fishing.

Even as Loki clapped, each movement slow and deliberate, palms slapping together with dull thuds as Thor glowered at him, he thought,  _ I have my work cut out for me _ .

A dark voice whispered about shortcuts and how not really, there were obvious solutions, but Loki ignored it and returned to Jörmungandr. “Are you not going to help me clean this, Brother?” Thor called as Loki swung onto Jörmungandr’s back.

Loki scoffed and turned Jörmungandr back to the palace. “For once in your life, Thor, you can deal with the results of your idiocy.” 

While Thor sputtered, Loki tapped his heels against Jörmungandr and urged him forward. Another danger, Loki thought, one he would have expected if he had time to  _ think _ , to  _ plan, _ but one he had to address now. Too many dangers here, and if he didn’t take care, he would drown.

Still, there was something extraordinarily satisfying about hearing Thor shout after him.


	4. Chapter 4

Upon returning Jörmungandr to the stables, Loki almost walked in search of Frigga. To hug her, to smell her perfume, to hear her laugh and feel her breathe. It was the strength of the urge which convinced him to go to his rooms instead, to begin planning.

If everything worked, he would have centuries more to make all this up to her.

Loki couldn’t bring himself to walk through the palace. The sights and scents and sounds proved too much for his raw nerves, so with a murmur and a casting, he found himself back in his rooms. Another casting locked the doors so even Thor would need to struggle to find his way inside.

Now, to work. He had the date. He had the timeframe. The Jotunn would arrive on schedule without further help from him. He could interfere with that, but today proved that he still needed to keep Thor from becoming King. There was no point in saving everyone from Malekith and Thanos for Thor to kill everyone in a ridiculous war.

Loki had to stop and breathe for a heartbeat, thinking of Thor on the  _ Statesman _ , before he pushed it away. There would be no death this time. He could do this.

Which left other questions. Loki paced as he thought, rubbing his hands together and tangling his fingers. So many changes to the timeline but he could handle them, could handle  _ all _ of them, if it meant Thor ( _ and Frigga,  _ **_Mother_ ** ) survived. He could keep them alive and…

Loki paused and stared at himself in the mirror. His face looked so young before the Void, before Thanos, but the eyes were the same as the creature who caused Ragnarok. 

Thor and Frigga would live, and Thanos would die.

First things first: the coronation.

He ended up sitting at his desk and scribbling in his journal everything he remembered leading up to the coronation, the failed coronation itself, and what happened … well … after. To Loki’s consternation, those days were a mix of hyper-clear images and blurs like faded dreams. He remembered his arm turning blue but no details of the fight immediately before or after that. He remembered Thor and Odin’s fight but not what happened after it. 

Not helpful. He needed to obtain all the details of those days. 

More than that… Loki grimaced. He needed to find out more about Midgard. He would need the Avengers in the fight against Thanos. According to his hawkling, it was Thor’s arrival on Midgard and his later battle with the Destroyer which set things into motion. They successfully fought against the Chitauri army. He needed them at their best, united and prepared, against the rest of Thanos’s forces.

Loki’s stomach grumbled. Hand stilling over his journal, he looked down. Whatever woes in this time, going without dinner was not on the list. Food, then more planning.

When he stood up, the room spun. Loki grabbed the edge of the desk and closed his eyes to steady himself, and there  _ his _ Thor waited, mouth open in a scream as Thanos tightened his hand around Thor’s skull. Gasping, Loki opened his eyes and stared down at the wood under his hands.

No,  _ no _ . He wiped his face and flinched at the sweat slicking his palm. It wasn’t going to happen that way. It  _ wasn’t. _

Someone knocked at the door. Loki flinched. “What?” he snapped.

The voice which answered wasn’t Thor’s (or Thanos’s) or Frigga’s, so it took Loki a moment to focus on it and parse out the words. “Your Highness, Her Majesty Queen Frigga bids you join her and the Allfather for dinner.”

He rambled on about when and where, but Loki was already somewhere else. Did he have this dinner in the other timeline? Was anything of import discussed? Was this a change caused by Frigga seeing him so upset earlier? 

He couldn’t  _ remember _ .

The obvious answer was to decline, because the coronation and the paths it would close or open was only a handful of days away. His plan was too vulnerable,  _ he _ was too vulnerable, so of course Loki said, “I will be there soon.”

No matter the timeline, his masochistic streak refused to fade.

To dinner, then, with the woman he loved and helped kill, and with…

Well. With  _ Odin _ .

He listened to the person’s steps fade away as he closed his journal. He smiled a thin smile in the mirror as he spelled appropriate clothes over his slender form. 

So it would seem as if even watching the man die wasn’t enough to sate the rage in his heart.

When Loki arrived, he found himself the last arriving of four, not three. Thor glowered at him when he arrived, but Frigga stood and extended her arms, smiling as if she hadn’t seen him in years.  _ Oh, Mother, if you only knew _ . Loki stepped easily into her arms and hugged her with a casualness he didn’t feel.

Before he left for his rooms tonight, Loki decided, he would tell her that he loved her. No matter what happened, to him or to her or to Asgard itself, the last thing she would hear from him would  _ always _ be that he loved her.

With one last inhale of her perfume, Loki released her and stepped back. Frigga smiled at him, eyes bright and shoulders loose, and something about her relaxed appearance  _ bothered _ Loki. Rather than focus on that, though, Loki finally looked beyond her and Thor’s scowl to the rest of the room. There was… not an opulence to the dining area, no. That had been Loki’s game when he ruled Asgard, pushing for things the Allfather would never deign to enjoy and  _ waiting _ for someone to point out, to protest. No one ever did. Perhaps they believed that their king had gone unhinged with grief over his wife (and possibly over the loss of Loki, but he doubted anyone thought that). Perhaps they knew all along that something wasn’t right but preferred the peace Loki promoted over raising a fuss.

_ Peace _ . That was what the room held.  _ Peace _ , in the colorful flowers in the middle of the long table, in the sweet scent the flowers offered. In the subtle overlay of magic in the room, promoting tranquility and healing. A peace Loki had first ignored, then discarded, always taken for granted.

Loki held it tight to him now as he turned to the room’s last occupant and smiled. It felt wrong on his mouth. “Father.”

Odin smiled back, healthier but no younger than Loki’s memories, and that was another thought for later, too. His smile was no more than a quirk of his mouth, and something flared inside Loki when he noted Odin’s eye roamed past him after a heartbeat of attention.

Loki turned away from him to sit beside Frigga. The table was small enough that he sat close to both her and Thor. Of course, this put Odin in his immediate line of sight. Loki recognized the intimate setting as his mother’s doing. He also recognized that this dinner was a mistake.

_ I’m surrounded by dead people _ , Loki thought as servants brought out drinks and the first round of food.  _ I helped kill all of you. _

He bit the inside of his cheek and clutched his hands beneath the table as the servant poured his wine and placed a plate in front of him. Another servant placed plates of fruit and cheese and small meats at the center of the table. Thor reached for the meat before the servants left. Odin grabbed his mead. Only Frigga paused, eyeing Loki, her own hands on her lap. Loki’s heart pounded.

Then Frigga smiled at him, that same soothing smile from before, and reached for her own wine. Loki’s hands relaxed.

Of course. Why would any of them notice? They hadn’t noticed anything in the original timeline. Why would they notice anything now?

That, strangely, did little to make him feel better. Loki reached for his wine and had to focus on sipping it. It was a sweet dessert wine. When he pretended to be Odin, he still drank it. For years, sipping his wine, watching his plays, trying to protect and scatter the Stones, all the while Odin enchanted and rotting on Midgard.

_ That’s right. I defeated you once, old man. I  _ **_won._ **

Now  _ that _ made Loki feel better. He relaxed and sipped his wine before reaching for a piece of cheese. 

_ I put you in a  _ **_mortal_ ** _ cage _ , and it was that which allowed Loki to look at Odin again. Odin didn’t seem to notice, gaze on Thor. His brother was methodically working on demolishing the meat plate.

“Are you ready, my son, for the coming days?” Odin inquired. He reached for a piece of meat, and Loki noticed how Thor instinctively moved his hand away to let Odin grab a piece. He didn’t think Thor noticed.

“Ha! Of course!” Thor grinned, bright as Sol, but the tightness around his eyes belied his confident tone. He met Odin’s gaze once and then turned back to his food. Had Loki noticed these things in the past? He doubted it.

Like he hadn’t noticed the strain around Odin’s own mouth and eye. Odin grunted. Loki hid his mouth with his wine goblet. Only days until the coronation, which meant only days until his Sleep. How much had that affected things? All of this was like looking at a scrying pool.

“It is all right to be nervous, my son.” Frigga placed a piece of cheese and some fruit on Loki’s empty plate. She smiled at Loki before turning to Thor. “Do not forget that you will have support in all of the changes ahead. Your father and I will be there.” She winked at Loki. “You will also have a most clever advisor.”

Advisor. Thor called him that on the Ark. He said that the people of Midgard would have to accept Loki, because he would be lost without his advisor. Before Loki could get lost following those thoughts, Loki toasted Thor. “Now may he actually listen to such cleverness for a change.”

Even as Thor scoffed at him, Loki swallowed the rest of his wine and held it out for a servant to refill. His tolerance had increased over the years, and his time at Sakaar had only helped. 

Would that help now? How much of  _ him _ had the Time Stone sent back?

Thor was talking. Loki focused. “--raised for this. I will make you and Father proud.”

Loki drank more wine.

Something touched his leg. Loki turned to his mother, who smiled, withdrawing her hand. Only when he forced a smile back did Frigga turn to Thor. She talked about nervousness but Loki had difficulty following. He hid behind his wine and watched.

Alive. All alive. Thor and Frigga and Odin, sitting close to him, talking and eating and  _ breathing _ . Their voices came as if from a distance, agonizingly familiar faces haloed with light. Thor threw his head back and laugh and when had Loki last seen that? He could smell Frigga’s perfume over the scent of their dinner, heard the deep tones of Odin’s voice even if his words were unintelligible. 

He remembered, with abrupt clarity, when the guard told him of Frigga’s death. As Loki raged, a part of him refused to believe it. He never saw her body. He never saw her body in the boat, her final journey to Valhalla. Until Thor came to him, face grim and alien, Loki couldn’t truly believe it.

In contrast, he knew Thor was dead as soon as he woke up alone.

Loki focused on Thor. Thor had a mouthful of food and was grinning at Frigga, who was shaking her head in pseudo-dismay. Odin ignored all of them. Loki’s fingers itched for a knife, a small stab. Something familiar. With Frigga there, he settled for kicking Thor’s shin instead. Without hesitation, without anything but a quick side glare, Thor kicked his shin back. 

It hurt -- Thor always did hit too hard -- but the lights around the group faded and their words cleared. Loki exhaled and started eating his dinner. He couldn’t taste it.

_ You die. You all die. And I kill all of you. _

By the time Loki escaped back to his room (he told her he loved her and the words tasted empty in his mouth, horrifically shallow), he was exhausted and nauseous but had a plan. He locked his door and pulled out his journal and sat down to scribble notes. He knew the timeline. He knew the people involved. He had everything he needed to fix this.

This would be perfect.

Sometime during his scribbling, someone knocked on his door. Loki ignored it.


	5. Chapter 5

The three days leading up to the coronation felt like a fever dream. Nights and days blurred too often together, dreams of running through the halls, each step closer to Ragnarok, drifting into the reality of walking past warriors and knowing what they looked like in death. In his dreams, blood dripped down the walls, and Loki forced himself not to look for signs of Odin’s and Hela’s history of slaughter in gold and stone. Once, at dinner, Odin boomed a laugh, and where once Loki’s aching, weak heart heard only Thor, now Loki heard the echoes of Thanos. His nails bit deep into his palms, drawing blood: the only reaction he allowed himself. Thor laughed and there was no echo of Odin: only Thor’s screams.

Within the shadows of those golden halls, Loki plotted and pretended. Most of the work for the actual coronation was done. Based on what he knew, he tweaked details: moving the guards out of the Jotnar’s path, making minor alterations to the spell which would hide the Jotnar to reduce the trail back to Loki. Small things. The goal was to save Asgardian life, not uselessly throw it away.

As for the Jotnar themselves… Loki told himself they were acceptable sacrifices. At least this time they needed not fear the Bifrost aimed at their Realm. Then Loki stopped thinking about them.

Loki strolled through the gardens with Frigga and made vague plans for Malekith’s destruction. If sometimes he had difficulty looking at her, she didn’t seem to notice.

Two days prior to the coronation, they walked upon Thor flirting with one of the servants. Her hair was almost as golden as Thor’s, her eyes almost as bright a blue. She laughed with Thor, light and teasing, flirting easily back. Astrid, Loki recalled. Her name was Astrid. Clever, far more clever than Thor at this point in his life. He half-expected his mind to traverse a now well-tread road: how had she died? Had he seen her corpse? Instead, his mind flashed to the fiery mortal Jane. A smile tugged at his mouth. A strong slap for a mortal.

At his elbow, his mother sighed. For a moment, no more than the space between heartbeats, something strange and dark flickered across her lovely face, something  _ tired _ , but then her usual, tolerant smile returned. “Let him flirt for now, Soon he will need to look for a queen.”

Instantly, barbs coiled and tightened around Loki’s heart. He forced his own smile to stay in place and waved his fingers. “He is not the only one who needs to have fun before he is king.”

With a subtle shimmer of green, the flower Thor offered to Astrid transformed into a small, dark snake. More startled than afraid, Astrid gasped and stepped back.

Thor? Thor laughed. Raising the snake in his hands, he didn’t seem to notice when the snake jerked and bit his thumb.

Helpless, Loki felt his small smile grow. “He never learns,” he said, voice fonder than he preferred. There was laughter and the smell of his mother’s garden and Thor alive and brilliant in front of him and Frigga warm beside him and Loki felt… Loki felt...

Frigga laughed, drawing Thor’s gaze to them, and squeezed Loki’s arm. “And what is why he needs you.”

That night, Loki remembered where he saw Astrid’s corpse: on the ship. A hole blasted through her chest. She looked more startled than afraid then, too.

xoxoxox

The day before the coronation dawned so sunny and bright it gave Loki an instant headache. Despite that, he found himself standing on his balcony, staring at the sky, some part of him still refusing to believe it was real.

Breakfast was a quiet affair between Loki and Frigga: Odin busy planning the coronation and Thor sleeping off a hangover. Or mild after-effects from snake venom. Loki wasn’t sure. It ended with a kiss to his mother’s hair, a quiet  _ I love you _ , and something niggling at Loki’s heart which he ignored.

The planning was done, leaving Loki at dangerously loose ends. Of all plans, his treacherous feet carried him to the observatory. The dead followed despite his best attempts.

Upon his arrival, Loki nodded once at Heimdall, who yielded a nod back. Loki’s mind whispered that he knew what Heimdall’s face looked like in its death throes, what it looked like dead, but by then Loki had plenty of experience keeping his own expression even. 

For days, he had waited. He waited for accusations, for someone to call him upon his falsehoods, for someone to recognize something different, something  _ wrong _ about him. He strode past Heimdall with a veneer of confidence and indifference and  _ waited _ for Heimdall of all people to notice. For Heimdall to raise Hofund and hold it against Loki’s throat and demand answers.

Heimdall said nothing. Loki walked to the edge of the observatory and stared into the sky beyond.

In another lifetime, he fell endlessly beyond that sky. In this one, Loki noted clouds gathering dark and restless in the distance: so different from the clear skies above Odin’s halls.

“Greetings, Loki-Prince.” Heimdall’s deep voice filled the space between them like gas, replacing all of the air. “I did not expect to see you today.”

Sometimes, the truth came easily to Loki. Rarely. “I did not expect to come here.” Loki shrugged, the movement more careless than Loki felt.

Somewhere beyond that horizon was Malekith, just waiting for his mad revenge. Malekith and Thanos and the remains of the other eight Realms, pathetic before Thanos ever touched them. Loki settled with his hands behind his back and mused. So many fallen to the House of Odin, and it would take so little --  _ had _ taken so little -- to nudge Thor down the bloody path of his forefathers.

Helpless satisfaction spiked in Loki’s heart, and he thought,  _ I almost destroyed an entire Realm with no army, no grand hammer. Let Odin and Hela and Bor and Thor match that. _

“I expected you to be preparing for the coronation,” Heimdall mused behind him.

Loki huffed what could have been a laugh and shook his head. He could never decide if Heimdall was prying for information or simply speaking. Or both. It seemed as if from the first, Heimdall looked down on him, sought fault in him, but even as Loki couldn’t forget Heimdall’s treachery, he also couldn’t forget how casually Heimdall welcomed him back, and that was  _ after _ Loki had banished him. “Tis not my coronation. My greatest responsibility will come after: keeping Thor’s impulsivity and temper from killing us all.”

Heimdall hummed. “Thor will be a great king someday.”

A caveat. Someday. Telling. “Indeed,” Loki agreed. Another rare truth. “And it’s our responsibility to ensure everyone survives until that day.”

No response, but the air seemed lighter. Loki exhaled and stared into the sky. “Tell me, Heimdall, what do your eyes see of the Nine Realms?” Thinking of the shattered wastes of Svartalfheim, Loki’s mouth quirked. “What remains of them, anyway.”

“Your Highness?” Ah, there was that guarded tone again. Their tentative peace was gone as quickly as it arrived.

Loki waved a hand in the air, turning to see Heimdall’s mouth open. Mayhap to tell his prince what he saw, mayhap to pursue an inevitably annoying line of questioning. “Never mind. I spent the night reading of Bor’s great battles and. Well. I was left with more concerns than I would like.” He glanced once more behind him. “It proved a distraction from my current concerns, at least.”

Heimdall frowned at him before those uncanny golden eyes shifted beyond Loki, beyond Asgard. Good. “I see, my prince. If ever you have questions, the observatory is open to you.”

Loki nodded regally and turned away. One more seed planted.

So many to go.

xoxoxox

The thought of seeds and their growth haunted Loki as he sat in a tavern with his brother and his brother’s friends the night before Thor’s coronation. He sat in the corner, shoved beside his brother, Thor’s elbow jarring Loki’s ribs with each laugh. Hogun on his other side balanced Loki each time without looking up from his mead. Lady Sif sat on Thor’s other side, with Fandral and Volstagg already halfway drunk between Lady Sif and Hogun. Never changing expression, Hogun balanced Fandral. Lady Sif didn’t bother with Volstagg.

Did Loki do this last time? He couldn’t remember. 

A little drunk and exhausted and self-indulgent, Loki leaned into his brother. Thor never looked at him, but he regularly threw an arm around his shoulder and squeezed him close before resuming gesturing. Such casual, careless affectionate, and it made Loki dizzier than the drink.

In the morning, he would betray him. It was for the best. Had he not told Heimdall that he was responsible for keeping everyone alive until Thor became a great king? Truth and lies and alcohol swirled sickeningly in Loki’s gut.

No one spoke of the coronation. Loki thought it meant something but couldn’t bring himself to focus on it. How could he with Thor warm and steady at his side? Breathing, laughing?  _ Alive? _

He would keep him that way. He wouldn’t fail him again. He would fight the Norns --

“Brother?” Thor asked, jolting him out of his thoughts. Loki took a quick swig of his mead. Not his favorite drink but Thor ordered before he could say anything.

Was his silence suspicious? His mannerisms? Once he told Thor that he had grown and it had only been half a lie. Had Thor noticed something? Something wrong at last?

Why hadn’t anyone noticed? Why hadn’t anyone noticed  _ anything? _

Thor elbowed him now, almost making him spill his mead all over his chest, and boomed a laugh. “Ah, Brother, lost in thought again. You think too much!”

“Someone must do the thinking for you,” Loki retorted, the words automatic on his tongue, “as it seems too much for you to do.”

Fandral laughed, throwing his head back, and kept going. Without changing expression, Hogun grabbed him by the tunic and hauled him back. “Ah, our Loki! Always thinking!” His chair slammed back onto all four legs. His mead sloshed in his mug. “Almost as serious as our Hogun, our Loki! Surely the God of Mischief must have some entertainment planned?” 

Fandral winked at Loki, and Loki randomly remembered that he was the only one of Thor’s minions to not threaten him with death if he betrayed Thor. How had Hela killed him? None of the survivors (brief as that was) was able to tell Thor. Perhaps Heimdall knew, but Heimdall spoke little of the slaughter.

Then he, too, was slaughtered.

_ Were you still laughing when you died? _

Loki couldn’t ask and no one knew anymore. No one  _ knew  _ \--

“Nothing entertaining,” he said truthfully. Wasn’t  _ that _ funny? 

And perhaps Fandral hadn’t threatened him, but he had been with the others when they betrayed him. If this were to succeed, Loki couldn’t forget that. He couldn’t trust any of them. 

Thor chortled and elbowed him. This time, Loki did spill his drink.

Loki couldn’t trust  _ him _ , either.

If Thor had any sense, Thor wouldn’t trust  _ him _ , but in all his time with Thor (before Thor died), Thor never had any sense. 

The memory was there, lingering at the edges of his mind, sharp and poisonous. Loki threw back the rest of his mead and then slammed his mug to the ground. It shattered, the noise slicing through Loki’s shredded nerves. To cover the sound of his pounding heart, Loki shouted, “Another!”

Thor cheered and immediately followed suit. With a shout from Fandral and Volstagg, the Warriors Three threw theirs to the floor. After a heartbeat, Lady Sif followed, her smile tight on her mouth. 

Lady Sif… Loki could not forget her. Loki watched her out of the corner of his eye as more drinks filled their table. She only relaxed when she smiled at Thor, the oblivious fool never noticing. Was she nervous about the upcoming coronation? Or even now, did she suspect Loki of concocting plans?

Thor grabbed Loki’s mug and shoved it in Loki’s hand. “Come, Brother,” Thor encouraged, his manic energy rubbing rough against Loki’s raw nerves. “Drink!”

Loki drank.

Sif watched him, and halfway drunk, brain sloshing in his skull, Loki wondered if she died, too. He knew how so many people looked in death, but he didn’t know about Lady Sif and the Warriors Three.

The dreams arose around him, dark and feverish, nightmares and night merging, and Loki took another drink, trying to wash it all away. There was much to do yet.

When Thor and Loki stumbled back to their rooms, Thor gripped Loki’s shoulders so tightly that it hurt even through the alcoholic haze. They didn’t speak. Loki tried several times, tongue clumsy in his mouth and heart aching in his chest, but Thor cut him off each time, singing loudly, with the songs growing bawdier with each interruption. For the best, Loki decided distantly, leaning into the solid comfort of Thor’s body. Alcohol always made him -- ugh --  _ honest _ . 

The Einherjar ignored them as they passed. They acknowledged their princes with bows and nods and otherwise didn’t look at them making drunken asses of themselves. That  _ bothered _ Loki, but he couldn’t place it. Something about it scratched at the sludge covering his usually quick mind. 

Before he could place it, a familiar figure shrouded in gold met them en route to their rooms. She blocked the hall with more her presence than physical figure, hands clasped in front of her. Frigga, so beautiful that Loki stumbled when he saw her. Thor helped him regain his balance, only to almost knock them both off their feet when he tried to clumsily bow to their mother. 

“Mother!” Thor called, the strange manic note in his voice still there and still clawing through Loki’s nerves. “We have never drank with you. We should! Do you not think, Brother? It will be a merry night!”

The look on Frigga’s face was strange. Loki couldn’t place it. She sighed and shook her head. Loki wanted to weep. He wanted to apologize, to her and Thor both.  _ I killed you, I’m sorry, I killed  _ \--

No. No. Thanos killed Thor. What --

Before Loki could muddle through his thoughts, Frigga gestured toward them. “Come. You both will have a long day tomorrow.”

In unison, Loki and Thor burst out laughing. Loki lost track of things after that. He was giggling when the hallway darkened, and he found himself still giggling when he found himself, somehow, being tucked into bed. By  _ Thor _ . Thor, who was still giggling himself as he pulled off Loki’s boots.

A single candle was lit by the doorway to his bedroom. In the doorway, Frigga watched them, unsmiling but her face still soft. Triumphantly throwing aside Loki’s boots, Thor reached for Loki’s other clothes. Loki smacked his hands away, even as his heart swelled painfully in his chest. 

“I love you,” Loki said, to Thor, to Frigga, both possibly. He didn’t know. He only knew his chest hurt so much it was difficult to breathe. They  _ had _ to know. No more Frigga dying thinking Loki scorned her or Thor dying thinking Loki betrayed him. His eyes burned.

Thor kissed his forehead with a wet smack, too hard and almost knocking Loki backward. The shock killed the rising burn in Loki’s eyes. “Love you, too, baby brother.”

While Loki sputtered and Frigga giggled behind her hand, Thor succeeded in tucking Loki’s blankets around him. Then he tripped over one of Loki’s discarded boots. Roundly cursing the boot and swearing vengeance, Thor stumbled toward the door.

Frigga caught him easily, like Thor wasn’t twice her girth and weight. She smiled around Thor’s weaving form. “I love you, my son. Good night.”

Even if Loki didn’t know to whom he spoke, Frigga knew. Loki hoped she always knew.

That night, there were no dreams of Asgard, no dreams of bloody halls and the dead and the undead. That night, Loki dreamed of the ship, that when Thanos started crushing Thor’s skull, Loki didn’t speak up. He didn’t interrupt. He only watched, and the Power Stone glowed even as Thor’s screams silenced.

In the morning, one of Frigga’s potions awaited him. Necessity bade him take it.

It was time for the Jotnar to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For fic notes and more fandom and Loki, check me out on [tumblr](https://tirsynni.tumblr.com/)!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Progress! Apologies for the delay (the month has been strangely stressful, hmmm...) and I hope everyone is doing well. Be safe, everyone!

Even if the days leading up to Thor’s initial coronation were blurry in Loki’s mind, the day of was not. It matched Loki’s memories to a terrifying degree. Not quite perfectly, but Loki was unsure if the changes had already begun or if he had forgotten details.

Thor’s comment on his lack of sincerity hurt more than it should have. Were not the Jotun already in the palace? Heading for their father’s treasure room? Was Thor’s coronation not already in motion to be stopped? It made Loki’s words all the more a double-edged dagger, as sincere as ever as he quoted  _ himself _ word for word, the words burned in him like he had said them a million times before.

“Now give us a kiss,” Loki finished, and Thor rewarded him with a laugh.

The rest of the coronation had the strange hyper clarity and odd saturation of a dream. Loki took his place and watched Thor approach Odin. He couldn’t look away from his brother. It was so similar and so  _ different _ from when he claimed the title of King on their forsaken ship to Midgard. How he approached Odin, not an ounce of solemnity on his face, no weight on his shoulders. Thor acted like a warrior, triumphant from battle, returning home to claim his prize. 

Thor, one-eyed, hair shorn,  _ afraid. _ Yet he wasn’t afraid enough.

The Warriors Three ( _ corpses, all _ ) and Lady Sif watched, and Loki saw Lady Sif smiling even as she rolled her eyes. Did she understand? Did  _ anyone _ understand the mess Loki averted?

Loki refused to look at Odin. He refused to look at Frigga. The citizens, most cheering, others not, seemed part of the dream, not real people. Even as he watched Thor, even as some part of him tracked where the Jotunn must be by now, the rest of him remembered running through the palace, the emptiness only broken by corpses, the brilliant ceiling shattered and revealing the gruesome truth underneath, the blood staining the golden walls and floors.

Before Loki unleashed Ragnarok, of course. Couldn’t forget that.

Thor knelt before Odin, a grin on his face. He tossed their mother a wink. Out of the corner of Loki’s eye, he watched Frigga repress a smile. Loki still refused to look at Odin, even as his voice boomed through the hall. All grew solemn then. The haunting voices in Loki’s mind quieted.

“I swear,” Thor repeated, oblivious.

“Do you swear?”

“I swear.”

Fools, all. 

“I, Odin, Allfather,” Odin began.

It felt like something squeezed Loki’s heart in his chest. Excitement glowed on Thor’s (so young) face. Everyone seemed to hold their breath.

“-- proclaim you,” Odin continued. Then quieted. 

Thor waited, almost  _ trembling _ with anticipation. For just a heartbeat, Loki felt regret. In that heartbeat, a hundred plans flooded his mind: letting Thor take the throne but ruling through him, Thor an oblivious puppet, Thor having all the glory his heart desired while Loki ruled the kingdom, powerful in the shadows.

Then, “Frost Giants,” Odin breathed, and the moment was gone.

From there, Loki shifted to being a spectator. His greatest strength, truly, although few were aware. If one understood the pieces, their motivations, weaknesses, and strengths, one only had to set things in motion and watch. He knew Thor’s temper, his pride, and it was achingly like writing a script for a play. 

_ You are not ready to be King _ , Loki thought, listening to Thor spew poison. He remembered listening before but forgot the intensity of Thor’s words, the rage.  _ This _ Thor was not  _ his _ Thor.  _ This _ Thor had no interest in peace: only war and glory.

Watching Odin silence Thor with quiet, sharp words, each a dagger to Thor’s pride, Loki remembered one other fear he had forgotten: how would  _ this _ Thor react to his brother being a Jotnar? 

Another conversation he never had with Thor. How had he reacted? How long had it taken for him to calm down? How did Odin and Frigga reveal the truth?

Following his brother out of the treasure room, Thor’s rage a trembling, blinding presence in the air, Loki realized that conversation was just another thing lost in time and death.

From behind the column, Loki watched Thor roar and flip the table. He silently tapped his fingers against the column, allowing himself a moment of thought. Regardless, what happened in the next several hours would change the course of history.  _ This _ Thor was malleable, open to Loki’s poison. He could twist Thor however he liked. Loki alone knew what happened from here on. He knew what succeeded and what failed. 

Thor slumped to the stairs, no longer a proud but worn king: instead, a petulant child, his toy stolen from him. Loki’s earlier regret vanished. A child who would be king. What was Odin  _ thinking _ allowing this to go so far?

_ I may betray you, Brother, _ Loki thought, stepping away from the column,  _ but I seek your best interest in ways the old man never did.  _

It was thinking of Odin (and Frigga) which solidified his plans. This path was the cruelest and the bloodiest, and indeed, the most spiteful, but all that truly mattered was the end result. Thor told him once that he could be more than a Trickster God, but no force in all the Realms, including death itself, could ever stop him from being the God of Mischief. Those who underestimated him due to the relatively benign title deserved their fate.

Hiding a vicious smile, Loki went to convince Thor to go to Jotunheim. Whatever blood Thor spilled there would be on Odin’s hands as well as theirs.

Again, Loki fell into the role of spectator. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember his original words to Thor: Thor desired to be justified, so any words would do. He only needed to watch and shift his expression into something worried and fretful and allowed Thor to convince his friends to join him on this insane quest. 

Like old, Loki ordered a guard to alert the Allfather and followed Thor. Everything proceeded smoothly, to the point that Loki found himself wondering what it would be like if he put Thor on the throne as his puppet… but then he wouldn’t have  _ his _ Thor back. Thor would remain a selfish child, and after he had seen what Thor could be, he wanted it. He wanted to see what Thor could become.

Perhaps it was due to thoughts of Thor’s (lost) potential, but when they reached the Bifrost and Heimdall allowed them passage to forbidden Jotunheim, the flare of rage took Loki by surprise.  _ You were another who indulged Thor like a spoiled child. Why? Why did you let us go? Why did you allow the Warriors Three and Lady Sif to Midgard? Why did you let any of this go so far? _

So many questions lost to time and death, but it occurred to Loki as they landed on Jotunheim that he could ask Heimdall at least one of those questions. How odd.

Loki feared some minute change would occur on Jotunheim. This way was a risk: battle was messy and just because no one died  _ last  _ time didn’t mean that no one would die  _ this _ time. Everything else went the same: Laufey, the pathetic little insult which inspired Thor to start a war, the fighting itself.

Then Volstagg cried out.

Then the Jotnar grabbed his arm.

Then Fandral screamed.

Loki threw his knives (like before) and saved Fandral from further harm. Lady Sif shouted at Thor even as Volstagg and Hogun drew Fandral off the sharp ice spears. Loki shouted at Thor -- “We must go!” -- and felt his heart pound, making him feel dizzy and sick, when Thor just scoffed at them and kept fighting.

He had done this all before. He had lived through it and survived it and faced far worse. It was ridiculous that this should bother him now.

When the monster was unleashed and they ran for their lives, Loki couldn’t shake that feeling of horror.  _ Everything is going to plan! _ he shouted at himself as the beast roared and charged after them.  _ Everything is going exactly to plan! _ Even more now than it had last time. Everything was going perfectly.

Yet he still felt as shaky as an unblooded youth, even when Odin arrived in time for his dramatic rescue.

Loki pushed it all back, every ounce of agony and dread, as the next act unfolded. Now was the moment. Now was the time to change their destinies.

He watched the fight with sick dread and cold calculation tangling sickly in his stomach. He waited for his moment, for the realization to come upon Odin. Loki watched the weight increase on Odin’s shoulders, the pained realization in his eye, how his features aged and twisted in seconds. 

_ You did this, old man. You created this path. But  _ **_I_ ** _ will change it. _

“Father,” Loki began, stepping forward.

Odin whirled on him and snarled, but this time, Loki did not let himself back down. He stepped forward and knelt, bowing his head. His heart pounded against his ribs. “Father,” he repeated, and it took more effort than he expected to keep his voice soft, submissive. “Thor chose poorly, yes, and has proven he is not ready to be King --”

Now Thor snarled at him, sounding  _ exactly _ like Odin, and Loki’s fingers twitched. He looked up through his lashes to see Odin gesture furiously at Thor, but Odin kept his gaze fixed on Loki.  _ Now _ he had his attention? Truly?

_ Focus, Loki. _

“But I believe,” Loki continued, ignoring Thor’s palpable rage, “it is because he has spent too much time learning to be a warrior and not enough learning his royal duties.”

“I was --” Thor roared.

Odin slammed Gungnir to the floor. Both Thor and Loki flinched. “Silence!” He turned back to Loki and had he ever paid this much attention to him? Had he ever looked at Loki like this? Loki couldn’t remember. “Speak, Loki.”

Loki swallowed.  _ You planned this _ , he reminded himself.  _ This situation is your doing. _

There was surprisingly little comfort in that.

“Give him duties pertaining to kingship. Exchange sword for a quill.” Loki licked his lips. “If one’s main tool is a hammer, it makes sense that he would believe that all conflict can be solved by hammering it away.”

Silence. Loki remained kneeling, breathing evenly through a constricted throat. Of course Thor was the one who broke the silence. “Brother,” and the betrayal there  _ hurt _ even when Loki knew better, “you --”

“Speak truly,” Odin interrupted. “Loki, rise.”

Loki did and immediately disliked the look on Odin’s face. It was too thoughtful, eye too sharp on Loki, and he knew then that his great plan was about to shatter.

“Thor Odinson --”

Was he going to banish Thor after all? It helped with his humility but didn’t help him learn to rule a kingdom worth a damn.

“You have betrayed the express command of your king.”

Except he didn’t move closer to Thor. Odin stared hard at him but didn’t strip him of his ornaments as he did before. He didn’t move to open the Bifrost.

“You have proven yourself reckless and foolish, a child at play instead of a man.”

Different words. Loki wanted different, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread.

“So.” Odin looked at Thor, and Thor visibly shivered. Loki bit the inside of his cheek. “I will treat you like a child.”

Odin held out his hand, and Mjolnir flew from Thor to slap Odin’s palm. Odin didn’t look away from Thor. Thor’s hand flexed, as if he already missed Mjolnir, but he made no move to reclaim her. At last, Thor realized the depth of his troubles.

“I see now that I have been remiss in many things.” Now Odin glanced at Loki. Loki wished he would resume staring at Thor. For once, he was content to be ignored. “I taught pride but not humility, strength of body but not of heart, the joys of leadership but not its price.”

Perhaps his  _ other _ plan would have been wiser. Odin was easier to manage in Odinsleep.

“You will keep your title of prince,” Odin said, steel cold in his voice, “but not the title of Thunderer. In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin Allfather, strip you of the power you so prized. Until you prove yourself worthy, no hammer will you wield nor thunder you shall summon.”

Thor opened his mouth but one glare from Odin shut him up. Odin held Mjolnir to his lips and whispered something Loki didn’t bother hearing. 

_ This is good _ , he told himself.  _ This fits perfectly. You can  _ \--

Odin dropped Mjolnir to the floor, and power exploded outward. Loki gasped as the shockwave slammed into him, but Thor cried out and dropped to his knees. One glance and Loki saw it: not a mortal this time but every trace of elemental magic gone from him. Loki’s eyes widened and he looked back at Odin.

Who stared back at him.

The feeling of dread intensified.

“And you, Loki, who followed him into battle when you knew better…” Odin cocked his head and a chill raced up Loki’s spine. “My Odinsleep comes upon me soon. When it comes, you will act as Regent.”

...what.

Loki licked his lips. “I beg your pardon?” he croaked.

Odin nodded, satisfied, while Loki blinked at him. He felt like Odin had smacked him over the head with Mjolnir rather than simply dropped it to the floor. “For centuries you have followed Thor into his madness, and Thor has led you and others into danger. Now you will lead, and Thor will learn how to follow and serve, as a King must learn how to serve his people.”

Loki expected a protest from Thor, but there was nothing. Loki couldn’t bring himself to look away from Odin’s face. “I -- Father. I.”

His clever tongue failed him. His quick mind was quiet. This. This did not follow with any of his plans, nor anything he expected of Odin. What was the madman  _ doing _ ?

Odin nodded, the only one in the room satisfied. “Tomorrow you will be crowned Regent. I must prepare for Odinsleep.” 

He paused long enough to add, “Go to your rooms and clean yourselves up,” before sweeping away.

Loki felt his knees give, and he sat heavily on the steps. He stared blankly at the far wall.

That. That didn’t go to plan at all.

“You.”

For once in their lives, Thor reclaimed his senses before Loki did. His day was just getting better and better.

Thor towered over him, empty hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. Against his will, Loki flinched. Thor only growled. 

“Did you plan this?” Thor snarled. He took a step forward and there was nothing but rage in his eyes. “Destroy my coronation? Steal the crown from me?” His hands flexed again before curling into tight fists. “Were all your words lies in order to obtain power?”

All of Loki’s plans were laid to waste but this was still manageable, he could fix this, but he needed a moment to  _ think _ and he couldn’t do that while Thor was being a thoughtless  _ lout _ . He needed to get away, organize, but instead Loki found himself getting to his feet, his own fingers flexing and power simmering at his fingertips. 

“No,” Loki snarled, and his rage tasted like poison on his tongue. “ _ This  _ situation was  _ your _ doing. If you had kept your temper, you would be planning your coronation again. But no. You never  _ think _ .”

The sheer depth of his fury surprised him.  _ Focus, Loki! _ but his heart wouldn’t calm in his chest, his magic refused to settle in his veins. Loki heard again Volstagg’s shout and Fandral’s cry and  _ how did they die? How did they die? _

“I have no desire to be king!” Loki shouted, and he remembered those words, felt tears burn his eyes, and in that moment, he passionately hated them both. “All I ever desired was to be your equal!”

And that wasn’t what he meant to say, that wasn’t it at all, and even as Thor frowned and reached out to him -- hand opened instead of closed -- Loki whisked himself away. Before he spoke further. Before he said something he would need to fix. 

Loki intended to go to his rooms, to pace and plan. He needed a plan, needed to organize, and instead he found himself close to his mother’s quarters. He was shaking and didn’t understand why.  _ Yes _ , he didn’t expect this twist, but it could work so easily and everything else? Everything on Jotunheim? He had done it before, lived it before, and after  _ Thanos _ and Ragnarok none of this should have the power to hurt him anymore.

Yet the trembling refused to stop. He was still that weak child who couldn’t stop Thanos, who couldn’t save Thor.

And Odin, who knew him for the damned unwanted runt he was, made him Regent. Loki didn’t understand.

Before he could do more than approach her doors, he felt the sweet call of his mother’s  _ seidr _ . Loki couldn’t stop rubbing his hands as he followed it to Frigga’s gardens. He saw none of her handmaidens and thanked the Norns for that. He could barely  _ think _ , nonetheless try to hold a civil conversation.

And Loki  _ needed _ to think but his mind failed him. It went in the same useless circles, a snake biting its own tail.

There she was, sitting on a stone bench. Frigga was pale, anxiety darkening her eyes, but she extended her arms to him, anyway. Those damned tears still burning in his eyes, Loki went, kneeling beside her and resting his head in her lap like he was a child again. So many questions, so much to do, and he stayed there instead and let her pet his hair.

“I remember the days before you used to oil your hair,” Frigga mused, wistfulness softening her voice. “You have such lovely curls.”

When Loki laughed, it sounded like a sob. “That was before Thor could summon lightning and storms.”

Loki heard the smile in her voice. “He always lost his control around you, so eager to show off. No matter how hard he tried to calm himself, each time he would touch you and your hair would go wild.”

Loki sniffed and rubbed his eyes. How odd. He had forgotten that. He choked on another laugh. Frigga’s hand paused in his hair, fingers tangled in the strands.

“Your father told me what happened,” she said quietly.

Loki exhaled sharply and started sitting up. Frigga’s hand remained firm in his hair, keeping him still.

“We both knew Thor wasn’t ready,” she continued, voice still soft. “We hoped that kingship would help settle him, help him realize his responsibilities. This helped us realize we were wrong.”

Another laugh tore from Loki’s throat, dryer and harsher, scraping like glass all the way up. Responses clamored in his mouth but he didn’t trust any of them. Too many of them mixed the present with the future, too much rage and hurt waiting behind his teeth. 

Frigga seemed to fill the silence with her own responses. “Your father prepares for his sleep now. Your time as King will help prepare you both for the future.”

Even as that response was a knife through Loki’s gut, it calmed the turmoil in him. Ah. That was why Odin made Loki Regent. Not because he trusted his Jotun trinket on the throne but because he found a new use for it, a whetstone to sharpen Thor’s ability to rule.

Loki exhaled, tasting his rage like Thor’s lightning on his tongue, and it was only then that Frigga loosened her grip on his hair. He sat up and met her dry eyes, still too dark, but her smile was soothing.

He needed to focus. There was a reason he chose the path which led to war. Loki held up his arm, the one the Jotun grabbed. His forearm looked strangely pale and bare. 

He could have followed the original path. He could have touched the Casket. Yet, for all of his acceptance of his heritage, Loki didn’t want to see it. “One of them touched me,” he said quietly. “They grabbed Volstagg and they grabbed me and --”

He didn’t need to finish. She knew enough.

The pain in Frigga’s eyes hurt him, but it also sent a lance of fury through his bones. Loki smothered it. At least this portion he could complete according to plan. 

Frigga reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. Against his will, Loki leaned into her touch. “At the end of the war with Jotunheim,” she said quietly, “your father found you abandoned on the battlefield, in a temple on Jotunheim. He brought you to me and I knew from the first moment I saw you that you were mine.”

No mention of being an unwanted runt. No mention of Laufey. Loki swallowed.

“And you never told me,” he said, his voice as quiet as hers. So many words, so many questions, so many screams, and Loki forced them all back. Plan. He had a plan.

Frigga cupped his cheek, and the love in her eyes physically hurt him. “We never wanted you to feel different,” she said, and it echoed in his head. That. That was identical to what she said before. Did she truly believe that? 

_ Don’t _ , Loki snarled at himself. His priority was to get everyone out alive.

She kissed his forehead, and he hated them both for being soothed. “We love you, Loki. No matter what happens, you are our son.”

_ Liar _ .

Loki swallowed the last taste of tears. “And Thor?” he asked with a calm he didn’t feel. “What will happen with Thor?”

When Frigga smiled, there was something settled about her, as if the Jotun question had been aired and promptly dismissed. That was good. That was a good thing. The important thing was that Frigga -- and Odin -- knew that Loki knew. 

“Your brother must learn responsibility,” she said simply. Her smile was all warmth and light and so similar to Thor’s that Loki wanted to cry again. He saw nothing of himself in her face. “In the meantime, you will be a fine king.”

In the meantime. Loki forced a smile and then rested his head back on her lap so he could hide his face. She said nothing, only resumed petting his hair.

When Loki left her, he succeeded in fleeing to his rooms. Then Loki sat at his desk, stared at his journal’s hiding place, and absolutely failed to think for a while.

Loki wasn’t sure how much time passed before someone knocked on his door. He shuddered and rubbed his face. “I am uninterested in your shouting, Thor,” he called, resting his head in the palms of his hands. 

“It is I.” Loki froze. Lady Sif. “May I come in?”

She was truly the last person he expected. Wait. No. If Thor wasn’t coming here to shout at him, of course Lady Sif would come instead. He groaned and rubbed his face again before sitting up. “Enter.”

When he stood, his bones ached and a dull throbbing began behind his eyes. Loki ignored them and walked into the waiting area, where Lady Sif stood beside the fireplace. With a flick of his wrist, Loki closed the door to his private rooms and locked them.

She turned to face him, the frown she had just for him darkening her face. When she saw him, her frown only deepened. “You have not cleaned up from the battle.”

Loki blinked and looked down. It would appear as if he had not. His forearm caught his attention again, so naked compared to the rest of him. “So it would seem.”

Shaking the fogginess growing in his mind, Loki walked over to the table and poured himself a goblet of water. He pointedly did not offer Lady Sif one. He was exhausted and he had far too much to do to entertain her right now. He did not discount her as a threat. He believed she was the one who led the charge to “free” Thor from Midgard and had been instrumental in ruining his plans the first time. He would find a way to deal with her suspicions. Later. “Lady Sif, while it is always a pleasure to see you, this has truly been a long day and I am weary. Does my brother not require your soothing hand and dulcet tones now?”

If he sounded bitter, well. He could not forget Thor turning on him in a rage after Odin left. If he had expected Odin to do that, if he had expected any of what followed after Jotunheim, he would have known Thor would turn his temper on him and would have been ready; but he had not and was not.  

Loki knew he shouldn’t be angry. This was Thor and he was still Loki and he  _ had _ betrayed him. But…

Before the battle on Jotunheim had started, Thor said  _ it _ again.  _ Know your place. _ He knew that was coming and it was the least of things, something he thought easily dismissed.

It would seem no matter the time, no matter what happened, Thor would always be an open wound for him.

Loki tossed back his water and wished it was wine.

“Did you plan on this?” Lady Sif demanded. Loki’s fingers convulsed around the goblet. “Thor told me what happened. This should have been Thor’s day of triumph, yet you will be the one crowned Regent on the morrow.”

Loki didn’t dare look at her. He kept his gaze focused on the far wall, on a portrait Frigga gifted him several centuries prior. One of the grey wolves from Vanaheim, stalking through the wilderness, a shadow amongst the bright green leaves and sunshine. He almost burned it last time, he remembered. Only love of Frigga stayed his hand.

“Which part, Lady Sif?” he inquired. “My brother charging Jotunheim? Starting a war over some Jotun calling him  _ princess _ ? Screaming at the Allfather and calling him a weak old man?” Loki tightened his grip on his goblet. “If he had shown one ounce of remorse, the Allfather would still have crowned him. If he had understood the weight of his actions, if he had refrained from yelling at his  _ king _ , then it still would have been Thor’s day of triumph. But he could not do that.”

Lady Sif started to speak, but Loki whirled on her, eyes blazing. He heard the goblet grinding in his hand. “I love my brother, and I would  _ rejoice _ to see him as king, but he started a war for no other reason than his wounded pride. Or is that somehow my fault? Do explain that, please, as I recall you with your sword at his side along with the rest of us.”

To her credit, she never flinched. She raised her head proudly, and Loki wanted to throw his goblet in her face. Why was this bothering him so? After all, it had been  _ Loki _ who had orchestrated the war, the only one who knew exactly what was going to be said and done. True, Odin’s choice at the end was unexpected, but it worked! He was now in the best position to further his plans!

Yet it still felt like something was cracking inside of him. Bit by bit, shard by shard, dripping poison all the while.

“You were there with us,” she retorted, “yet you were made Regent. Thor was punished, yet you rose to power. How --”

Loki’s wild laugh startled both of them. Loki slammed his goblet down and turned away from her. Poison bubbled in his mouth, too many truths for the God of Lies. “If you believe that, Lady Sif, you are as much a fool as my brother.” Only at his death did Odin say he loved Loki and was proud of him. Only then. “The Allfather uses this as a tool to strengthen his future king.”

“You --”

Loki refused to let her finish. He did not understand why but even her voice enraged him right then. “Perhaps you should spend this time with my brother. Or perhaps helping him realize that he was  _ wrong in starting a war _ is beyond you.”

For too long, there was only the crackling of the fire and Loki’s too harsh breaths. He glared at the wolf in its shadows and wondered if that was all  _ either  _ of them had ever meant for him: a shadow to Thor’s light.

For the first time, Loki wondered if it was possible to keep everyone else alive and keep himself sane and whole.

Her boots clicked lightly when Lady Sif walked away from the fireplace. She paused beside him. Loki refused to look away from the portrait.

“You could convince Odin,” she said quietly but insistently. “You being named Regent is punishment enough. Let Thor have his power back. He --”

_ Punishment enough. _

“Get out,” Loki hissed. “Now.”

When Lady Sif still hesitated, opening her mouth again, Loki banished her to the hall with a flick of his wrist. Seconds later he heard furious shouting outside his door, but by then it was locked and Loki was already walking back to his chambers. 

_ A compromise _ , he thought, sinking back onto his chair.  _ Stop Thanos but let Hela have this wretched realm.  _

No one else disturbed him that night. He expected to hear from Thor, to deal with Thor’s angry rantings and ravings, but no. Thor didn’t come after all.

A day after Thor should have been crowned King, Loki was crowned Regent. It was a solemn affair. Thor did not once meet his eyes.

That afternoon, Odin settled into Odinsleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find updates and fandom stuff on my [tumblr](https://tirsynni.tumblr.com/)!


	7. Chapter 7

It was strange what changed and what stayed the same.

Too caught up in his own terror and rage, Loki hadn’t noticed certain rules when he originally took the throne. He had naively lived them for centuries without realizing them, only now in hindsight recognizing the reality Odin had manipulated and used for so long. Unfortunately, those rules raised questions he couldn’t ask now: about the Jotunn, about Hela.

When he masqueraded as Odin, one of those rules became agonizingly clear: the power of hierarchy in Asgard was absolute. Only Heimdall seemed untouched by it. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif had more freedom, but only when acting in some relation to Thor.

Oh, how he pushed last time, Odin’s mask firmly covering his features. The two clever enough and bold enough to see through his disguises were handled: Heimdall banished and Lady Sif busy with quests. No one else on Asgard spoke a word no matter what Loki did. A different fear settled on his heart, distracted him from his goal of protecting Asgard from Thanos, and it made him wild and reckless, putting up his statues and staging his plays.  _ Pushing _ .

Odin would return. Thor would notice.  _ Asgard _ would notice and rebel against their false king. The clock clicked ever in his mind, an hourglass filling at the bottom of his stomach. In many ways, his days as King were torture.

Loki hadn’t expected Odin to give up. In hindsight, he should have. His mind shied away from the possibility, as it had many things. Even now, to his detriment, he struggled with it.

As for the Asgardian people… Well. They never changed, Loki’s one absolute in his storm.

There was confusion, oh yes, when Loki sat on the throne now, Gungnir in his hands. Just like last time, just like when “Odin” grew more erratic and grandiose. Confusion, but no protests. No action. Nothing. Odin’s sheep, docile before the throne. That knowledge kept Loki steady when the whispers reached him. Loki wasn’t the charismatic Thor. He wasn’t the golden God of Thunder, beloved by all. He was  _ Loki,  _ strange and dark. Most importantly, and what Loki hadn’t realized last time, was that it didn’t matter. He was  _ Prince _ Loki, son of Odin, son of the Allfather, royal and powerful, and all would bend a knee and offer respect. Even if they didn’t respect  _ Loki _ , the respect of the hierarchy was too strong, stronger than even Loki had realized even after centuries of taking advantage of it.

Unfortunately, that handled only one question out of many.

By the afternoon of the first day, Loki’s treacherous feet had carried him back to Frigga and Odin. More distractions from his damnable weak heart.

“We hoped the kingship would help  settle him,” Frigga admitted. She sat beside Loki, dress brushing his legs even as she cupped Odin’s limp hand. The sensation was faint, but his sharp ears caught each gentle rustle of fabric. “It is a time of peace, and we would both be with him to guide him.”

Loki scoffed. He didn’t look at Odin. Even after seeing him in Odinsleep before, even after bewitching his mind, even after watching him  _ die _ , there was something unnerving about the old man sleeping. Perhaps seeing him yield and fade made the Odinsleep worse. It felt like weakness, a foreshadowing of things to come. The script hadn’t changed, but the meanings behind every word and action had. “It would not have been a time of sleep for long if Thor had his way.”

Frigga hummed, and Loki waited for it, even as he knew she would say nothing. Nothing about his heritage, nothing about Thor’s vows to kill his blood kin, about how Thor’s ignorance even now loomed over Loki’s head like an axe. At least Loki hadn’t had to deal with this mess in the previous timeline.

“Thor has his weaknesses, as do we all.” She released Odin’s hand to pat Loki’s. She smiled at him. “This will be a great time of growth for all of us.”

If this had been one of Loki’s plays, he would have had a cunning response to her words, his own bit of foreshadowing. Growth indeed, and there was a terrible dichotomy between the wisdom in her eyes and the ignorance in her words. Had she said the same last time?

If this had been one of Loki’s plays, Odin’s sleep indeed would have been foreshadowing. Subtle but there, in how the illusion of immortality was stripped away, in how he looked old and frail and  _ mortal _ , in how even in Odinsleep, he seemed weary. The scene would have been all too easy to write.

But Frigga? In none of his plays did Loki dare mention her. For all the time he spent with her in that other timeline, no questions had been answered like they were with the Asgardians and Thor and Odin. His mother, his beloved mother, was opaque to him even as she smiled and squeezed his hand.

_ Growth _ , she said, and there was something striking in how Loki found himself silent, voiceless but for the echo of  _ no _ in his mind.

With no more answers than before, Loki broke, making his excuses and fleeing. Frigga didn’t question it. Loki didn’t dare look back. 

Fortunately for Loki’s planning, his official schedule was all but empty. Even with the looming war, no meetings were scheduled. Odin put everything on hold before his sleep, to ease Thor’s transition. If Loki recalled correctly, in the mere three days he was king before, little happened. Ironically, the first appointments were scheduled to begin the dawn of the fourth day. Loki never discovered what happened. Another mystery lost in time, he supposed.

He walked briskly down the halls. He had no fear of encountering Thor: since Loki’s quiet ceremony, Thor had hid himself away in his rooms. No. It was Lady Sif and the Warriors Three he didn’t wish to encounter. There was no sneaking away to Midgard for them now, no quest of finding their lost prince and returning him to his kingdom. No. Thor was lost, but not in a way they could help.

Which led to Loki’s problem: how to help Thor be worthy  _ without _ sending the Destroyer to attack ( _ kill _ ) him?

The memory tangled around his feet, and Loki paused in the middle of the hall to regain his balance and his breath.  _ Thor did not die there _ , he reminded himself, staring at a tapestry of an unknown battle.  _ He lived and proved himself worthy. No, no, he died  _ **_later_ ** _ , your sacrifice in vain -- _

Before his eyes, the tapestry seemed to flicker. He blinked and for a moment flames bloomed, devouring the tapestry. Loki  _ smelled  _ the acrid smoke, the scent of burning wool. There was the sound of crackling, of distant roars, but no screams: there was no one left to scream. 

Loki pressed his palms against his eyes until they throbbed and sparks lit behind his eyelids. When he opened his eyes again, the tapestry was normal. 

A new fear crept over him, like ice over dead flesh. Had he made a mistake when using the Infinity Stone? Or perhaps triggered some magical defense when he stole into the mortal’s lair to steal it? What else could explain these odd visions?

Had the Stone sent him back  _ wrong _ ? Or had it widened the cracks already there?

He planned on avoiding his room -- too easy for Thor’s lackeys to find him there -- but if there was some strange magic tormenting him, then he needed to find out. There was no way he could go to Lady Eir or Frigga. What if they --

“Loki?”

Dammit.

Dropping his hands to his sides and wiping his face clean of expression, Loki turned to face Volstagg. Truly, he expected it to be Lady Sif again.

He also wasn’t expecting Volstagg to be carrying a dish in his hands. 

“Loki?” Volstagg repeated, walking closer. Loki expected many expressions from Thor’s group, but he didn’t expect the worry darkening Volstagg’s face. Volstagg held up the dish as if supplication, his frown odd on his face. “You look ill. Are you well? Did you ever have your wound treated?”

Wound? Yes, of course. Lady Sif must have told them about his arm. 

Truly, he  _ felt _ ill, hot and shaky. He needed to hide, recover, look for magical wounds and curses.

He needed to flee Volstagg and his traitorous eyes. Without a doubt, whatever Volstagg saw or  _ thought  _ he saw would be reported to the others and would join the circulating rumors. Already, Loki heard whispers of Loki using his fey  _ seidr _ to enchant both Odin and Thor to steal the throne.

If only they knew.

“Quite well,” Loki said briskly. He glanced at the dish in his hands. “It seems we’re both busy, so I will leave you to your errand.” He turned on his heel and started for his rooms. Easier for Lady Sif and the others to find him than he would like, but magical locks were easy enough.

“It is for you, actually.”

Loki paused. He slowly turned back around. Standing where Loki left him, Volstagg smiled hopefully and raised the dish in his direction. “Gift from my wife,” he explained. “The Kingship is a heavy burden to bear, and you had no warning. It is apple cinnamon crisp. Thor said it was your favorite.”

At the mention of Thor’s name, something pinged in Loki’s heart. He kept his expression even as he approached Volstagg. Ridiculous that he sought to take down both the Mad Titan and the Goddess of Death and a man and his dessert frightened him. “It would seem as if you have talked more with Thor than I have.”

Volstagg shook his head. There was a sharpness to his eye that Loki dared not underestimate. None of Thor’s friends were known for their cleverness, but Loki had learned the price of disregarding them. “Nay. None of us have seen him since…” He faltered, but his hands remained steady holding the pie.

Since Loki’s coronation. Loki forced a smile, as sharp as his knives. “Indeed.”

Only when Loki smelled it did he realize he couldn’t remember the last time he ate such a dessert. On Sakaar, other treats were on display, and Loki only truly pushed his Odin disguise at the very end. It took every ounce of will to keep his smile steady.

Of course, Volstagg didn’t notice. He grinned, shoulders relaxing, and pushed the pie in Loki’s direction again. “It is fresh! My wife made it just this morn. I would have given it to you earlier, but…” He shrugged and looked ridiculously sheepish for a father and a warrior. 

This man threatened to kill Loki if he betrayed Thor, but there had been no repercussions when he betrayed Loki.

Loki couldn’t do it. All he had to do was take the damned dessert, make a show of some semblance of friendship, and he couldn’t do it. He gently pressed it back toward Volstagg and turned away so he wouldn’t need to see Volstagg’s face. “Give it to Thor. He could use the comfort more than me.”

Loki made it a dozen feet down the hall before Volstagg found his voice. “We are your friends, Loki. We want to help.”

He didn’t bother turning around. “You are Thor’s friends. Go help him.”

Volstagg didn’t answer.

That was foolish, but the simple act relieved some of the tension from Loki’s shoulders. Besides, it didn’t matter how kindly he acted. He spoke the truth: they were Thor’s friends, not his, and he didn’t dare trust them. Just because they couldn’t go and fetch Thor from Midgard in this time didn’t mean there weren’t other ways to disrupt his plans. 

The smell of smoke lingered in Loki’s nose as he locked his door behind him, both manually and magically. As helpful as it would be to also place a silencing charm, he didn’t dare. The crown proved an untimely distraction. His time for privacy was short.

Yet instead of his focus moving inward, to look for foreign magic and strange cracks, Loki’s attention moved outward. He sat at his desk, hands still and cold on his knees, and breathed in the scent of smoke and blood. Even his chair felt cold under him, reminiscent of the seats on their doomed ship.

Somewhere, Thor locked himself away like a spoiled child, so different from the King he grew to be. The King Loki  _ needed _ him to be. 

He had seen Thor’s at his lowest, at his most pathetic, and yet Loki still wished for his big brother to come save the day.

Loki exhaled shakily and rubbed his face. Not helpful. Not helpful in the slightest.

“I need to fix this,” he breathed. “I need to fix this.”

As if in response, the walls darkened, flames flickering at the edges. Loki closed his eyes and covered his face. 

“I will fix this,” he said, and only the rising roar of the flames answered him.

His solitude offering nothing but empty silence for his madness to fill, Loki fled his room. To his surprise, no one waited for him beyond his door. The hall was disturbingly silent. With that issue temporarily stalled, Loki forced himself to focus on the more important problem:

Laufey and the Jotunn.

And Loki had an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, more Loki and fandom can be found on my [tumblr](https://tirsynni.tumblr.com/). :D

**Author's Note:**

> For more fandom, as well as info on this and other fics, check me out on [tumblr](https://tirsynni.tumblr.com/).


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